


May I Have This Dance? (Rodney Remix)

by nagi_schwarz



Series: Read My Lips [29]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-22
Updated: 2016-03-22
Packaged: 2018-05-28 08:17:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6321922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/nagi_schwarz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remix of May I Have This Dance? From Rodney's POV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	May I Have This Dance? (Rodney Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [May I Have This Dance?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6305926) by [nagi_schwarz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/nagi_schwarz). 



Rodney thought the Atlantis Birthday Celebration was a a great idea, mostly because John refused to celebrate his own birthday and this would give Rodney a chance to do something special for him that wouldn't run afoul of John's personal issues with his actual birthday. There were going to be cupcakes and candles and wishes and food and drinks and dancing (Rodney was looking forward to the dancing, because he had yet to convince John to dance for him, and John dancing was...distracting and almost cost Rodney his eyebrows when the Ancient device discharged an electric spark).  
  
Rodney had heard he was up for one of the Red Shirt Awards even though he wasn't on a gate team (because sending the CSO through the gate on a first contact team was _insane_ ). He was more interested in earning an award for sweeping one of the quiz bowls.  
  
He found John quickly enough after the candle and cupcake ceremony and was prepared to drag him off to the quiz bowl.  
  
"C'mon, let's go win something." Rodney smiled at him.  
  
John shook his head. "Can't. We'd need Evan. Evan has a prior engagement."  
  
"Evan's first priority is you," Rodney pointed out.  
  
John towed Rodney over to where Teyla and Evan were standing, Evan holding a bowl full of dog tags.  
  
"What's going on?" Rodney asked, nodding at the bowl. "What's so important that you can't help me and John kick some ass at the Quiz Bowl?"  
  
Evan signed one-handed while he spoke, and it was unfair, how fast he could do that. "I'm helping out with the boxing tournament," he said. "I'm the high-ranking military officer outside the chain of command. It only makes sense for me to run it."  
  
"Who runs a boxing match for a birthday party?" Rodney demanded. "Surely Elizabeth wouldn't –"  
  
"Teldy signed off on it," Lorne said.  
  
"I want to join in," John said. His eyes were alight and he was grinning.  
  
John? In a boxing match? The idea was beyond ridiculous. But Rodney kept his tone measured and calm. "I don't think that's a good idea."  
  
Lorne spoke as John's voice. "It'll be fine. Just a little harmless fun. And Beckett will be on standby."  
  
Lorne's expression was unreadable; every emotion he was conveying was John's. Sometimes Rodney hated how good Lorne was at his job.  
  
Rodney glanced at Teyla, who dipped her chin every so slightly in acknowledgment. "I am not convinced that such an endeavor is harmless," she said.  
  
John seemed oblivious to Rodney's concern. "I bet Ronon will enjoy it," he said through Lorne.  
  
Ronon ambled closer to them. "Enjoy what?" he asked, signing _What?_ with careful hands.  
  
John grinned. Rodney didn't like that grin. That was the kind of grin that ended up with John doing some kind of crazy spin in one of the jumpers with the inertial dampeners turned off.  
  
John reached under his collar and drew out a necklace, a leather thong with what looked like some kind of animal tooth attached. He dropped it into the little bowl Lorne was holding. He arched an eyebrow and bowed a little and said, through Lorne, "May I have this dance?"  
  
"Dance?" Ronon echoed.  
  
Lorne hefted the bowl of dog tags. John's necklace was stark against the gleaming metal and chains.  
  
Rodney knew John was a strong man, a capable man, but he wasn't very big, and he wasn't a trained fighter, and the thought of him being a punching bag for a bunch of meat-headed marines was too much. Lorne explained the stupid tradition to Ronon, who was nodding like it made sense – and of course it made sense to him, he was a real-life Conan – and then Ronon was taking off his dog-tags and adding them to the bowl, and Evan rattled the bowl to mix everything around.  
  
John was practically vibrating with nervous energy.  
  
Rodney swallowed down a tirade. "John," he said, signs small and careful, "are you sure about this?"  
  
"Ask Evan," John said with his hands. "He trained me."  
  
Rodney turned to Lorne, betrayed. "You did?"  
  
Lorne's professional mien fractured in a few spots. "He wanted to be able to defend himself," Lorne said, signing with one hand for John's benefit. "He's held his own on the other side of the gate. You've seen him."  
  
John nodded his agreement. He caught Rodney's gaze, and for a moment, beneath the manic energy, Rodney saw something else. "I want to do this," he signed. "I promise it'll be all right."  
  
There was no way John could back up that promise. None whatsoever. Rodney flicked another glance at Lorne, but the man looked impassive.  
  
And Rodney had to wonder. It had been Lorne's job to help John for well over a decade now. He'd interpreted for John in college, but Rodney knew that Lorne's OCD tendency to be in control of everything and everyone meant he'd probably mother-henned John a whole lot, despite his repeated assertions that he was a professional and not involved in John's personal life at all. And now, on Atlantis, it was Lorne's job to interpret for John, but also his job to protect John physically when danger arose, and in those situations interpreting took a back seat. So if Lorne really was okay with John doing this, then it was okay, right?  
  
Rodney followed Teyla, John, Lorne, and Ronon into the training hall where a bunch of soldiers were gathered (including some ladies and okay, even a lady who wasn't a soldier but looked like one). Lorne was greeted with cheers, and Rodney was only slightly mollified to see Carson and Nurse Marie present as well.  
  
When Lorne started explaining the rules, signing as he went, some of the soldiers looked puzzled. Rodney had to admit that John, wearing track pants and a t-shirt and limbering up was a mighty fine sight, but he understood why the soldiers were apprehensive. Rodney knew John was smart, strong, capable. Had proven himself in highly dangerous situations, like when Kolya and his men invaded the city. But this was different. John didn't have Lorne and Atlantis backing him up. This was brutal hand-to-hand combat.  
  
Even if there was protective gear.  
  
Rodney agreed to be the time-keeper because it would afford him the best view of the fight, because he had to be able to see the fighters and the ref to make sure time was called appropriately.  
  
He sorely regretted his decision. Watching Kleinman and Cadman fight was painful. Rodney didn't consider himself particularly sexist, but he flinched every time Kleinman struck, because Cadman was a woman, was smaller. And sure she hit faster and more often, but Kleinman's hits rocked her every time they landed, and John – he wasn't much bigger than Cadman. Taller, sure, but just as lean, just as rangy. Most of the other soldiers had to have at least twenty pounds on him, and Rodney was a physicist. Twenty pounds plus speed meant a whole lot of force when it came slamming into a man's ribs.  
  
After the end of the first round, Rodney couldn't look. Stared at the timer for the full minute of the break, rang the bell, reset the timer for the second round. And he didn't watch. Didn't watch. Didn't have to. Could hear the audience as they winced and cheered and oohed and whooped collectively every time someone got in a good hit. Rodney instead watched John, who seemed pretty oblivious to what was going on, using the time to stretch out. Teyla and Ronon were watching the fight intently, both of them with brows furrowed in intense study. The three judges – surely they'd see sense, they'd stop John from fighting – were actually taking notes on little notecards.  
  
Somehow Cadman and Kleinman made it to a third round. Rodney stared intently at his shoes the entire time. He couldn't watch Kleinman beat up on Cadman, couldn't help but look at Cadman and imagine she was his sister. He knew Cadman was a damn good soldier, knew more about her than he could ever want after their stint together in his body, but Kleinman was bigger and taller and would obviously win. The way money was changing hands was sickening. Would money change hands when John fought?  
  
The round ended without anyone getting knocked out, and the judges took time to confer while Cadman and Kleinman peeled off their gloves and headgear. If this were any other night, if the potential fighters included anyone but John, Rodney might have approved of the chance to admire fit men and women in little boxing shorts, torsos mostly bare, muscles rippling. There were a lot of good-looking people in Atlantis.  
  
The judges announced their decision – Kleinman, winner by a narrow margin – and there was more cheering and money changing hands.  
  
Rodney lifted his head, sought out Nurse Marie. She reached into the bowl and came up with military tags and a familiar leather thong with an animal tooth on it. Rodney's throat closed. He knew that necklace. It was John's favorite. Memorabilia from happy times surfing as a kid. The other fighter's name was a blur. D-something. He was a short man, but he had broad shoulders, a barrel chest, and massively muscular arms. He peeled off his shirt and strutted up to the edge of the mats, and half of the soldiers roared their approval, the other half booing good-naturedly.  
  
The soldier lifted his chin, issued a challenge to the room at large, who dared to take him on? He was a human mountain.  
  
Nurse Marie waggled the other necklace, and the soldier hesitated when he saw it, cast a glance at Ronon. Some of the cheering faded.  
  
Ronon shrugged. "Not mine."  
  
When the solider looked at Teyla, she said, "It is not mine either."  
  
Nurse Marie cleared her throat, craned her head to peer at Lorne, who looked at the necklace for a long moment. Rodney knew that resigned expression on Lorne's face. It was the one he wore right before he went along with one of John's crazy prank ideas.  
  
"Wait," Rodney began, but Lorne hopped off the table, stamped his foot hard.  
  
John, who'd been stretching against the wall, spun around. He saw his necklace, and he grinned.  
  
The soldier had looked nervous when he thought the necklace was Ronon's and amused when he thought it was Teyla's. When he realized it was John's, he paused, cast Rodney a look. Was Rodney going to allow this?  
  
John stripped off his shirt and darted through the crowd to the ref. He tugged off his track suit bottoms and was wearing only a pair of little running shorts, and Rodney was definitely not distracted by how hot John looked nearly naked; Rodney was more concerned by how tiny John looked next to the giant soldier. John was taller, but the man was bigger everywhere else, through the shoulders and chest and hips, and he made John look like a twig.  
  
"Major." Carson leaned over to Lorne. "Is this a good idea?"  
  
Rodney faced Lorne. "It's a monumentally stupid idea." John was distracted getting his fight gear on, would miss this conversation entirely, and Rodney knew it was rude and condescending, but he didn't care, because he couldn't let John go through this.  
  
"I believe John is more aware than we are of his limits," Teyla said. Traitor.  
  
Rodney shook his head. "I can't do this. I – Teyla, you take the damn bell and timer."  
  
"A non-combatant has to run the time," one of the judges began, but Rodney handed the bell and timer to Teyla and stepped away from the judges' table. He couldn't watch this. Wouldn't stand by and watch John either get the hell beat out of him or watch the soldier throw the fight in a parody of kindness for John, who'd done his damnedest to pull his weight on this expedition.  
  
But when Rodney got to the door, he couldn't leave. Not all the way. He paused in the doorway, took a deep breath. Finally he planted himself against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest so he wouldn't wring them like a nervous wife.  
  
Nurse Marie took the bell and timer from Teyla, and the ref checked John and the soldier's mouth guards before sending them onto the mats.  
  
Nurse Marie raised the timer, raised the bell, rang it. Lorne signaled.  
  
And the fight began. John and the soldier circled each other in a sick parody of a ballroom dance. Everyone's collective breath was held, waiting for the first strike.  
  
The soldier lunged. Rodney cringed.  
  
John punched.  
  
And then he didn't stop punching. He was fast. Faster than Cadman had been. Rodney hadn't realized it was possible to be that fast with gloves so big. The other guy was bigger, slower, and it was comical, because John's gloves were a blur, but the bigger guy was barely feeling it, just hunching down and taking it. Like a tank taking shots from a little BB gun.  
  
Rodney realized he was gnawing on his knuckles halfway through the round and forced himself to cross his arms again.  
  
John lunged, punched, and fed a fist straight into the other guy's face. The soldier went down in a spray of blood.  
  
Rodney blinked. Had John just knocked the soldier out?  
  
No. Carson was there, and the soldier was on his feet, and Carson was tending to his bloody nose.  
  
If the big guy could take a hit like that, John didn't stand a chance.  
  
Rodney had to go. He couldn't watch this.  
  
Teyla was in John's corner, mopping his brow with the towel – he was pouring sweat – and speaking to him. He was nodding. Rodney wished he could lip-read. Surely Teyla was trying to talk John out of this.  
  
And then Marie, also a traitor, rang the bell for the second round. And the soldier came alive. Was more aggressive. Came after John, and John kept dancing out of the way, but his luck wouldn't hold forever, wouldn't –  
  
It looked like it happened in slow motion. The soldier drew his fist back, planted, twisted, and punched with all his might.  
  
His fist drove straight into John's ribs and folded him in half like an accordion. Rodney thought he could hear John's ribs breaking over the sudden silence of the crowd.  
  
Marie rang the bell.  
  
John staggered to the edge of the mats, caught himself, and straightened up.  
  
Carson was on him in an instant, checking him over, and Lorne was right on his heels. Rodney wanted to storm over there and have words with him, but no, he couldn't go over there, couldn't see up close what had happened to John, couldn't watch the bruises that would be blossoming under his skin.  
  
Marie, damn her to bell, rang the bell for the third round.  
  
Rodney could see it, the big guy winding up, planting for the punch that would end John's life.  
  
John punched first.  
  
The soldier crumpled to the floor like a wet paper towel. He didn't get back up.  
  
It took Rodney several long moments to realize what had happened. John had _won_. Some soldiers were taking their fallen comrade to the infirmary, Carson leading them. Teyla had helped John out of his fighting gear, and John was pulling his necklace back on.  
  
John had won.  
  
Impossible.  
  
But he'd done it.  
  
And standing there, hair even spikier with sweat, his entire torso gleaming, he was incredibly sexy. Stupid, insane, reckless as all get out, and sexy as hell.  
  
Monumentally stupid, though.  
  
Rodney elbowed his way through the crowd, planted himself in front of John, and had words with him. He was too incoherent for English, spitting profanities in French, while he let John know exactly how stupid he'd been.  
  
"What the hell were you thinking?" Rodney signed as fast as he could, catching John's gaze and holding it, because John had to understand how phenomenally insane he'd been to step onto those mats with a man twice his size. "You could have died! Do you know how lucky you are? That man could have killed you! I get it, you're a genius, but what you were right then was an idiot, and don't think how downright lickable you look right now is any excuse for how truly moronic you are or that it'll get you out of punishment."  
  
John just shrugged and grinned, that smirky little grin of his, and Rodney would have wiped it off his face with a fist of his own if he hadn't just seen John knock out a giant soldier.  
  
"How lickable is 'downright lickable'?" John asked. "Because you look pretty hot when you're angry and protective."  
  
Rodney couldn't cope with John's insolence, with the terror that had been pounding through his veins ever since John's necklace came out of that bowl, or the other sensation flooding his body and making him hot all over. He grabbed John's necklace and yanked him in for a kiss, tasting his salt and sweat and a bit of blood and the heat of his exertion and dammit all to hell, John was so beautiful and impossible.  
  
Teldy whooped and said, "Happy birthday, Dr. Sheppard!"  
  
"And Dr. McKay!" Cadman added.  
  
Rodney wrenched himself backward, horrified, because he and John had only been dating officially for a couple of months, had done their best to be discreet, and Lorne had gone along with it, acting like he was just interpreting intellectual debates between them.  
  
John grinned and mouthed, _You want some of this?_  
  
Rodney did. Rodney wanted so much he had no words for it. "I think I've had more fighting than I can handle outside of an encounter with the Wraith," Rodney said. He caught John's wrist and led him out of the room. He blushed at the chorus of _ooooh!_ that rose up behind him, but of course John was oblivious to the teasing hollers.  
  
If this was the Atlantis Birthday Party, well, Rodney and John were entitled to their own private birthday party. After that kind of performance, John deserved a reward. And it would start in the shower so he could get all clean. And if Rodney's washing John was just an excuse to check him over for injuries, John didn't seem to mind.  
  
Happy Birthday, Atlantis.


End file.
